


bunnies and muses

by nightquills



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Human Names, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 17:11:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1557944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightquills/pseuds/nightquills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles and one shots that just wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote them.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Body Wash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Spain/South Italy)

Romano is the kind of person that uses liquid body soap. It’s a nice vanilla scent... And it drives Spain crazy.

Every time they take a shower together, Spain has to endure the enticing scent and sight of Romano rubbing the white soap, thick and slightly iridescent, all over his body.

It reminds the Spaniard just a little bit too much of other white substances all over Romano’s body.

Antonio usually slams Romano against the wall right underneath the shower head around this time.

His actions are generally met with a “Fuck, that’s freezing!”, and then the little Italian is just a tad too preoccupied to care much about the contrast of the cold tile on his back to the warm water and body in front of him.


	2. Catch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this pairing still gets to me.
> 
> (Spain/South Italy)

They’re walking up the stairs after a long day of work gathering the vegetables from Spain’s fields, and Romano trips up the stairs.

How someone manages to do something like that Spain doesn’t know, but he automatically reaches forward and grabs both sides of Romano’s hips so he doesn’t fall forward and hurt himself.

His hands have landed on an exposed patch of skin, and he feels the muscles tense slightly under his fingers.

He rubs his fingers lightly before letting go, not saying a word, because he knows that the Italian is tired and irritable, and poking fun right now is only going to make the smaller man angry. An angry Lovi right before bed he won’t let him pull him close before they fall asleep.

They trudge up the rest of the stairs, feet dragging, and stumble into the bedroom. Neither of them even bother to change into their pajamas, simply taking off the dirt-stained pants and sweaty shirts sticking irritatingly to their backs.

They lie down, and the Spaniard carefully scoots over until he is cradling the other man in his arms.

He hears a mumbled thank you, and he smiles because he knows that Romano only says it when he really means it, and he knows that he isn’t just thanking him for catching him right before he fell.


	3. Hair Clip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Germany/Fem!North Italy)

The day after she left to go back to Italy, he finds one of her hair clips forgotten underneath the bed. She has tons of them, he knows, and won’t miss one. She’s always leaving things behind anyways.

Feliciana don’t even keep up the pretense of sleeping in “her” room anymore; it’s his room where she drops her bag when she arrives, his room she sleeps in. A smile unconsciously creeps upon his face as he shakes his head.

He stands from his crouched position and walks over to the dresser, where the top two drawers are hers. He flexes the clip in his hands, opening is as far as it goes and then releasing it. As he does so, the memory of her fruity scented hair pops into his head.

He lifts the clip to eye level, cheeks reddening, and sniffs the curved prongs. There, he’s able to faintly smell her fragrant cantaloupe shampoo.

He quickly draws it back from his nose and puts into a drawer, closing it quickly and turning away. Though he knows it’s irrational and illogical, he feels like someone is watching him act like the lovestruck school boy he might as well be.


	4. The Problems of Being a Nation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: the countries can't help but know the lyrics/tunes for the popular songs in their countries due to how many of their people are listening to them.
> 
> (Vaguely England/America)

“Really, Alfred?”

“What? What did I do this time?”

“If you hadn’t noticed, you were just humming Katy Perry.”

“I was not!”

“If you’d like to live in denial, fine.”

Arthur received a pout at this. “I’m much more of a rock person.”

A not-so-subtle eyeroll was given in America’s direction.

“Fine, maybe I was… But Iggy, you know it’s not my fault she’s in the top charts.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to give in to the urge to hum the top five!”

“Like you’re one to talk—was that Jason Derulo I heard you singing the other day?”

“It bloody well was not!”


	5. Begging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (No pairing)

“I do not think this—“

“Ve, Kiku, relax! What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

“Feliciano, I would like to point out that—“

“But Kiku, look at them staring up at us~. How could you refuse those eyes?”

The country in question glanced down at the dogs at their knees. They were staring up at the two countries, or rather the freshly cooked meat balls in their hands, with pitiful expressions.

“And just think, Germany probably trains them like he used to train us; all hard work with no breaks or treats!” Feli pouted here to accentuate his point, bending over to stroke the head of the nearest tawny-faced German shepherd.

“But what if they are on a special diet? Ludwig would not be pleased for that to be ruined, and what if they got sick?”, Japan said as he tried and failed to be the voice of reason.

“One each won’t hurt, I promise!”

The Italian turned his own puppy eyes to Kiku.

With a soft put-upon sigh, he responded, “.....Alright.”

Feliciano, contrary to his word, could not stop giving once the tail wagging began.

“So cute,” he crooned.

* * *

 Needless to say, Germany was displeased and rather confused when he realized that a pound of hamburger meat had mysteriously disappeared.


	6. Stuffed Animal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (No pairing)

Lovino would never admit it, but he had slept with a stuffed animal well into high school.

It wasn’t like he cuddled it or anything—he wasn’t five!—but he kept it at the top of his pillow. It sat there, a little bit ragged but still soft, watching over him as he slept.

Fuck you if you’d never thought your toys were real. Lovino had grown up with Toy Story, and of course it had left an impression.

He didn’t actually want it to get up and talk to him; what about all the embarrassing things he’d done in his room when no one is there, all the times he’d sung off-key on purpose, all the times he’d danced like a fool? No, he didn’t want the little fucker to be able to remember or even comprehend his complete and utter stupidity.

He just hoped that maybe the thing would act like a good luck charm, keep nightmares away or something. He liked to think that it worked, that the faded little bull fought them away before he could experience them.

Of course, that all ended when Nonno died in front of his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, just a hint of angst at the end there. I couldn't help myself lol


	7. Not Pity, Per Se

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a request. I don't really read about these characters, so please excuse any mischaracterizations.
> 
> (No pairing)

It’s chance that they ended up standing in the lunch line together. Yao noted in the back of his head how weird it was to see the younger girl without her brother at her side, but other than giving a quick yet polite “Hello”, decided to say nothing of it.

That is, until he looked back on his way to a table and sees her staring around with a lost look on her face. It’s not pity, per se, that drives him to walk back towards her, but he doesn’t know the name of what exactly it is.

“You look lost, aru.”

“Ja—I mean, yes.” At this, she blushed embarrassedly and looked at the floor.

“If you want, you could sit with me and my siblings.”

“…Thank you.”

Yao turned and walked deeper into the cafeteria, dodging past numerous countries and their aides to do so with Lilli at his side. It isn’t often that their conference places had cafeterias inside, but when they did it was always hectic.

China awkwardly cleared his throat. “So, have you had a chance to go sightseeing yet?” As old as China was, he always got dragged into the whole tourist thing by South Korea. He had long ago resigned himself to it.

“Not yet,” she answered in a quiet voice. “I’ve been meaning to go to the new art museum downtown, but bruder is very busy now.” She seemed almost embarrassed to admit this, but Yao understood.

They moved to sit at the far end of a table, down a few feet from Hong Kong, Thailand, South Korea, Vietnam, and Taiwan. He nodded at them briefly, then turned his attention back to the country in front of him.

“It’s always better to go with someone else.” It was not very hard to see that while Switzerland clearly loved his sister, his over-protectiveness sometimes hurt her more than it helped her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, this marks the end of the chapters I'm choosing to move over from ff.net, so the next one will probably be the last for a while.


	8. Bruising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Russia/America)

And it’s the feeling of his mouth, brutally pushing against his own, that reminds him why they can’t keep doing this.  It’s the dark bruises bitten into his skin, and he should really push him away and make him stop but it feels so good and he doesn’t want it to end but he knows it should.

He reasons with himself, just one more kiss, just one more minute of this, but then his legs are hitched up and the underside of his left thigh is grasped tightly in a broad hand.

The blond is pushed against the wall, the taller man’s left hand pressed between his back and solid plaster, and he gasps into the kiss, if it could be called that, in surprise. That’s a mistake, though, as it loses him the ground he had fiercely fought for with swiping tongue and dragging teeth.

His fingers wind even tighter in the almost white locks grasped between them, and he contemplates pushing the other man away for just a second… And then he succumbs to temptation and pulls the other man even closer, drawing a moan muffled by lips.

He aggressively shoves his head forward, causing the top edge of his glasses to knock against the ridge of the man’s pale eyebrow. Lilac eyes glare at him and his captured thigh receives a slight clench.

His lips form the semblance of a smirk before the insistent force pushing upon them changes their shape, and he reaches down with his hands to begin unbuttoning the shirt in front of him.


	9. Sculpture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Vaguely Greece/Japan)

He has a tendency of falling asleep during school, and this is driven by his inability to sleep at night. (No matter how long he keeps his eyes shut and lies there, no matter what pills he takes.)

Due to this, Herakles doesn’t really socialize much; the most social interaction he has daily is usually with that Turkish asswipe, and beyond that, murmuring apologies to the people he bumps into in the halls and answering questions in class when he can be bothered to stay awake. He couldn’t tell you the names of most of his classmates if his life depended on it.

Really, he only bothers with art—the only class whose material he can't learn or work on at home. He has an almost single-minded passion for working in that class, so even there he doesn’t participate in or pay attention to the discussion held by his classmates.

The teacher assigns broad ideas and leaves the students free to chose whatever media they want to work with, and Herakles most often chooses clay. The newest project is on dance.

He’s working on the detail work for a sculpture of a ballerina, more specifically on the pattern of her bodice, and the muscles in his hands are almost cramping from how steady he’s trying to hold the tool between his fingers. Then there’s a bump against the table he’s sitting at and his arm moves with it, marring the surface of the clay as well as most of the detail he had already done with an erratic line.

Herakles looks up with a growl already forming on his lips to see a shorter classmate staring at him with wide brown eyes, a slack jaw, and an expression of horror and mortification. His ire is drawn by smothered laughter at the table next to him, and his eye catches the movement of a foot retreating from the aisle to back under a table.  
“I’m-I’m so sorry.”

A slow and deep exhalation leaves the sleepy teen, and he nods. He grabs a bit of slip with his fingers and uses it to smooth over the area ruined, applying the slightest bit of pressure.

“It’s not your fault.”

The teen’s blush darkens and he stumbles out, “Is there any way I can help you fix it?”

“Not really…. Thank you for the offer.”

A moment of silence.

“If you’re just going to stand there, you might as well sit down.” He barely looks up from the curve of a sculpted shoulder blade as he says this, but Herakles hears the hesitating scrape of a stool’s legs across linoleum.

There are sounds of paper and pens being gently placed on the table, and then relative silence falls over the table.

Towards the end of the class, Herakles has managed to redo the work that had been erased, and he’s wrapping the sculpture carefully in plastic bags to keep it from drying out until the next class. After returning the wrapped clay to a rack in the supplies room, he’s wiping up his side of the table when he happens to look up and see the work of the teen that had been sitting across from him. His paper—Herakles absently notices that it’s Bristol board—has a couple depicted in ink with the female dipped backwards, leg wrapped around the male holding her, as they perform something that looks like the tango. The slope of the limbs is exquisite, and though there is not yet color the detail and shading is remarkable.

The Greek compliments the other in a low voice, and right as the other is about to respond the bell rings and he moves towards the door. He’s halfway down the hall when the Asian catches up to him, moving to match the other’s long and steady stride.

“Thank you. I’m sorry again, about your project.”

He makes a humming noise in response.

“....I-I’m Kiku, by the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outtake: "His paper—Herakles absently notices that it’s Bristol board—has a girl depicted in ink twerking."


	10. An Attempt at Studying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Spain/South Italy)

Lovi is trying to study for his history exam tomorrow.

...'Trying' being the operative word here, because Antonio seems to be determined to thoroughly distract him from his notes.

In hindsight, Lovino thinks, maybe it wasn’t his smartest idea to move their study session from the floor to his bed--never mind his decision to lay down on his stomach facing away from Antonio, which was practically asking the other boy to bother him and demand his attention--but dammit, he wanted to be comfortable. He supposes that now he’ll just have to reap what he’s sown.

(He knows that Antonio would stop if he asked him to, but to be honest, Lovino rather appreciates the feeling of his lips fluttering against the back of his neck, giving him gentle kisses and softly nipping at the skin there.)

Lovi leans his head to the side to give Antonio better access even as he conversationally remarks, “Some of us are trying to work over here, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Antonio murmurs into the juncture between Lovi’s shoulder and neck. Antonio makes sure to keep the pressure of his face just heavy enough that it doesn’t tickle, but that certainly doesn’t stop Lovino from squirming anyways. “But we’ve been working so hard, querido… Couldn’t we take a break?”

Lovino fakes a resigned sigh but doesn’t stop the smile from spreading as he says, “I suppose we could.” He carefully moves his notes somewhere they won’t be crushed if he moves around.

Antonio takes that as a cue to settle his weight more fully against Lovino’s back, and his lips begin pressing against Lovi’s neck more earnestly and insistently.

Lovino pushes back against Antonio to get him to move enough so that he can flip himself over onto his back. That brings the two of them are face to face. Lovino can’t decide what he wants to look at more--Antonio’s vibrant green eyes, the corners of which are turned up at the sides from the smile on his face, or his kissable lips stretched in that damn smirk.

His eyes dart back and forth between the two until Antonio leans downs and Lovino stretches up, and then his eyes are slipping closed as their lips touch.

Lovino takes a moment to lament over the fact that they’re probably not going to get much more studying done that night, and then he’s just a bit too distracted to think of anything at all.


	11. Fucking Lab Partners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....And I don't mean in the literal sense. 
> 
> (Spain/South Italy)

Lovino is so fucking fed up at the moment that it’s not even funny. He’s had to put up with this fuckery for the _entire goddamn school year_ , and now he’s officially done. He’s done with his stupid-ass boyfriend and his boyfriend’s stupid-ass best friend.

The three of them have been Physics partners since the first week of school. Lord knows that Lovino has had a near saintly amount of patience since then.

He’s saved their grades and their lives more than once, and he only wishes he was joking about that last part. It’s a god damned full time job trying to corral Antonio and Gilbert into doing their work and not touching or putting things in their mouths that have the potential to kill them.

(Lovino still shudders when he thinks about the electricity unit and how many fucking times he stopped the two of them from electrocuting themselves. Because of course the duo never listened to any of the damn safety procedures.)

Finally, though, the trio has reached the last lab project of the entire year, and Lovi has managed to keep them in one piece and passing the class up to that point.

Lovi’s efforts to keep his idiots alive this year are about to be in vain, however, because he’s going to kill them himself.

He’s going to murder them, and he’s going to enjoy doing it, because they have to build a boat out of cardboard and duct tape, and he comes back from the bathroom to find that Antonio and Gilbert have covered themselves in approximately three-fourths of a roll of tape while he was gone. They’ve also commandeered the other fourth of the tape as well as a couple of cardboard boxes to create matching helmets and makeshift swords for themselves.

When Lovi walks back into the room, they’re in the middle of whacking each other with the aforementioned swords. The icing on the theoretical cake is the fact that they’re standing upon the rest of the cardboard boxes, which have collapsed and folded in on themselves under the strain. Meaning that their structural integrity is completely compromised, and Lovi is going to fucking kill them, he swears to god.  
  
They’re both dead. So very dead.

Antonio and Gilbert turn to look at him together, obviously feeling the strength of the murderous glare he’s leveling on their backs. Their eyes simultaneously widen, and the both of them begin to back away from him.

“Ohhhhh shit,” Gilbert says as he moves away, tentatively raising his cardboard sword as if that will help him defend himself.

“‘Ohhhhh shit,’ is right, motherfucker,” Lovi says as he advances towards them. He picks up the piece of PVC pipe that was supposed to become one of oars for their boat and keeps walking forward.

“Lovi, querido, please--” Antonio starts.

“Don’t even start with me right now. I’m gonna give you exactly five seconds of a head start. One. Two. Three--”

\--And Gilbert and Antonio are running away out the door.


	12. Fucking Lab Partners, A Prequel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....Still not in the literal sense. 
> 
> A prequel to the previous snippet, loosely based around one of the prompts [here](http://nightquills.tumblr.com/post/120097759439/science-aus).
> 
> (Spain/South Italy)

Their physics teacher has tasked them with a lab to build different kinds of circuits today, and before they’ve even headed to the back of the room Lovi knows that he’s going to once again regret having sat next to Antonio and Gilbert way back on the first day of school that year.

“So… Is it too much to hope that either of you happened to listen to the instructions for today’s lab?” Lovino asks, already knowing the answer.

The answer comes in the form of two blank, if somewhat sheepish, looks directed right at him. Lovi breathes in deeply, trying to suppress both his ire and his desire to drop to his knees and yell at the ceiling about why, exactly, god does this to him.

“Do you guys even know what we’re learning?”

Gilbert opens his mouth and then closes it, fighting a quirk at the corner of hip lips that tells of an attempt to stop himself from laughing. He takes a moment to get himself under control and then he says, “The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

“Ohhhh my god,” Lovino groans as Gil and Antonio crack up. “Could you please, please, stop fucking saying that already? It’s fucking physics. We’ve been in a fucking _physics_ class this entire year, in case it had somehow escaped your notice.”

(And really, you could not _pay_ Lovino to go back to biology class. Freshman year he had been stuck with Gilbert and Francis as lab partners, and Lovi kept asking himself why he made the same type of mistakes over and over again. Why does he torture himself like this?)

Antonio tries to smile charmingly in Lovino’s direction, apparently in the hopes of appealing to Lovino’s unfortunate soft spot for his dumb grin.

...And god dammit, Lovino is once again forced to admit that it’s rather effective. He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and pleads, “Let’s try not to get shocked today, okay? Just this once, please.”

Lovino leads the way back to the lab tables at the back of the room, stopping at the supply counter to shove a power source into Antonio’s arms and a plastic container full of wires, clamps, and a voltmeter and ammeter into Gilbert’s. He carefully reaches out to grab three tiny lightbulbs himself, cradling them in his palm gently as the trio walks to their normal table.

Upon arriving at their table, Lovino puts down the sheet with the lab instructions on them and makes Gilbert and Antonio stare at the section labeled “SAFETY PROCEDURES” as he plugs in the power source and attaches the correct wires to it.

Lovi attaches the light bulb and the wires, making sure to include the ammeter right before the wires loop back into the power source, and then he carefully turns on the power source and adjusts the knobs slowly just like the teacher said to--

\--And the fucking light bulb does nothing. It’s still just sitting there, unlit. Lovi fiddles with the knobs a little bit more, afraid of turning them too high in case the bulb blows out. He wonders if it may be the bulb, or if there might be a break somewhere in the wires….?

He turns back to the plastic container on the other side of the table and grabs some new wires, trying to untangle them so that he can maybe find one with better clamps.

Then he jumps a fucking foot in the air, because a loud popping noise just came out of fucking nowhere, holy shit.

He wheels around to see Gilbert and Antonio staring at the burnt out light bulb in shock, Antonio’s hand still gripping one of the wires.

Lovi explodes into motion, reaching out to turn off the power before his boyfriend can electrocute himself. “Oh my god, you dumbo!” he yells as he reaches over and grabs Antonio’s hands, checking to see that the other boy is okay. “The power source is still fucking on! You could have shocked yourself! You could have like, died!”

“Lovi, I'm f--” Antonio tries to interject.

“No, no! I turned my back for one second! One second!”

Antonio is now looking appropriately cowed, but Gilbert is trying to contain snickers that soon escape him and turn into full blown laughter.

Lovino just glares at him.

“...D-dumbo. All the insults in the world...” Gilbert gasps through peals of laughter, “...and you choose… You ch-chose ‘dumbo.’’

“Gilbert, shut the fuck up and go grab me another light bulb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for you guys: [a visual representation of Gilbert during bio](https://vine.co/v/iZH9ig2V5DE).


End file.
